


Though I Dream, Cry, and Get Hurt

by LordTaiyaki



Category: Arthurian Mythology, Arthurian Mythology & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 09:41:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5703067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordTaiyaki/pseuds/LordTaiyaki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When other girls were dreamed about wedding gowns and bouquet, she was dreaming about swords and frilly skirts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Though I Dream, Cry, and Get Hurt

Galen rarely dreams about weddings.

Sure, she sometimes gushes and chuckles along with her lady friends about what will they wear to the altar, what dance they’ll have at the reception, and so on. And true, despite being the chastise maiden she is as of current, she herself frequently thinks about settling down and start a family.

But those come less often than her other dream- being a magical girl.

As a child, she was always fascinated about how these young girls manage to fight through a quads of hideous villains and wicked monstrocities one after another. By the end of every season, the girls with the power of love and friendship vanquish evil and restore light into the world. But every heroic episode does not come without perils however, as many tears are shed and friendships are broken (they mostly make up in the end, though). These girls get hurt a lot, and still they dream. To her, they hold an appeal even more than princesses decked in heavy period dresses and bejewled crowns sitting prettily on their prettily made hair

_If girls can’t be princesses, might as well be knights instead_.

At the age of seven, she figured out that she didn’t need heroes. She didn’t need a prince to come riding to her in a shining armor, on a handsome white horse. No, she concluded that she should _become_ the hero. One day she will hold in one hand a mighty sword that could cut a continent in half, a shield decorated with a herald and jewels in the other. Galen duLac will choose a new Awesome McCool name and stand taller than mountains.

(But heroes don’t just need armor. Oh, no. To become a hero, one needs a reason to become one. Namely, loved ones to protect. Galen hadn’t thought who exactly she wants to protect. Mother had already died, so she just settled on Father instead. Lance, of course, just chuckled at this and ruffled her hair, quietly cheering her to do her very best).

And even as she progressed well into teenagehood, those dreams didn’t fade. It had slightly dimmed several times during some of the lowest points in her life, but they never died. In fact, she’s twenty-three now, with a job and other responsibilities she bears upon her small yet strong shoulders. As a young woman blossoming well into a lady, she is obliged to bury her childhood dreams in the deepest corners of her heart.

But living chivalrously is her goal. Even if in the end she doesn’t get to fulfill a certain world-changing prophecy in the end. Nor does she weep at the fact that she may neer be destined to save the world from impending doom. Through it all, she still strives to live valiantly, with or with no frilly skirts.

* * *

“You sure enjoy looking at the stars.” a voice calls from behind her. “Aren’t you cold?”

Mordred the Terrible -that’s what they call him. Everything about him fits his namesake: a traitor from the Arthurian Legends. Right from the circumstances of his birth (his father, a founder of a huge company. His mother, said father’s first cousin. Of course, Mordred was born illegitimate and unrecgonized by his paternal family), down to his mannerisms and appearance. They say that his soul is as black as his raven hair and that his heart is as cold as the steely gazes he perpetually shows. This may come off true, as his tounge is vicious and his acidic words drive even the most sardonic of people away from him.

But most is not all, and despite how easy it is to hate him _and_ be hated by him, some manage to hold still within his barrier of mistrust and misgivings. And Galen is one of them. A rather special case, in fact.

(Yet they still see Mordred as an ‘ugly’ person, even beneath his handsome and nearly perfect exterior.)

Galen doesn’t reply to him, and instead continues to stare at the near black sky. It’s beautiful tonight, as stars scatter throughout, and they remind her of beads spilling out on an obsidian floor. She leans frontward on the parapet, ignoring steps approaching her.

She feels a cold touch on her bare shoulder. “You’re in deep thought.” he states, though it falls more of a question than statement, “Care to share….whatever you’re having up there in the clouds?”

Galen sighs softly, and turns to face her beloved.

“Remember that I like to think I’m some sort of magical girl?” she suddenly averts her eye, “I’m still thinking whether a star would suddenly climb down and talk to me. Then give me some sort of item so I can turn into a knight. Perferably with white, thin armor.”

Mordred smirks, “With frilly skirt?”

Galen stares straight into his eyes “No, frilly shorts.”

Now, one would usually let out a hearty laugh and then gently slap her shoulder, saying how funny she is and that her imagination is 'precious’ (At least, that’s what Auntie Guin does, albeit more sourly done). But Mordred knows better. He opts to close his eyes and smile. She has his quirks, and so does he. But this is no silly quirk, and this happens a lot.

All of a sudden, a notion crept into his mind. Nothing too important, but meaningful all the same.

He decides to impose the question to her. “Has it ever occured to you,” he stars “that maidens of justice shouldn’t try to offer her heart to a villain? Now, I’ve known that if they so wish, heroes can open their hearts to villains and grant them forgiveness. But exactly what kind of magical heroine would want to approach an antihero and stay with him?”

Silence.

The question surprises Galen, but not by much. After all, she’s wise enough to know all her answers and probably, so does he. Despite her youthful, cherub-like appearence and cheerful (sometimes overly optimistic, at least according to Mordred) personality, she is not as wide-eyed as one may think. She is an adult after all. She knows better than to answer the question with a shallow response.

“I think,” she begins “it’s because magical girls are supposed to look beneath all that evil and see the person for what they really are. Once you get past that darkness, you will see a much more colorful side to them. Maybe, they’re not all that evil. Maybe they had painful and traumatizing experiences. Or maybe they’re just angry, lonely, desperate. All that, if not properly vented out, can turn you into a cynical person at first. And slowly, to a fully evil villain. Magical girls don’t kill these poor souls and be done with them. Magical girls heal, and give them life” her sweet voice lows “These souls earn their redemption by the end.”

Predictable.

Mordred merely sighs, not yet opening his eyes. This is the pure Galen. Childish, innocent Galen.

“But then….”

Mordred opens his dark grey eyes to meet Galen’s blue ones. He knows. He knows Galen has more to tell.

“What is it?”

The girl’s eyelashes fluttered down. Her mouth curves into a content smile.

“But then, even without having to travel deep down into your heart, I can accept you fully. You, Mordred, are imperfect. Imperfection is human. And I too, am human.”

His gaze is affixed at hers.

“Magical girls are pretty much the same. Without their powers, they’re pretty much the same like us. Some were losers, even. But all used to be the same: Immature, naive, with their rose-colored glasses. Eventually they grow up.” Her voice trails off. But she isn’t done yet.

“You know, I think I don’t need to become a magical girl after all. I’ve already achieved their goal. Or ypu can say I’m in the _process_ of achieving it.”

“And what is that?”

“Maturing. Growing up.” Her eyes seems to sparkle. “I’ve matured a lot. I’m certainly mature enough to know that the world isn’t just made up of good and evil. Between white and black, there’s grey. And you, Mordred, are in that grey area. You’re definitely no saint, but neither are you a villain.” Galen reaches out to take his hand and squeezes it. “I know you can change for the better someday. But in the meantime I’ll just embrace the you I have right now.”

Smiling contently, Mordred kisses the back of her hand. He is satisfied with the answer.

“As expected from a Galen, a true knight.” He stares down at her.

And staring back at her beloved, Galen can only laugh as he leans down to kiss her.

**Author's Note:**

> So, my first Arhurian fic. In case you were wondering, the song is taken from the Utena OP "Rinbu Revolution". Again, please read and review. Constructive criticism is welcomed.


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